Without You I'm Nothing
by doctor-bacon
Summary: Captain Hook/Killian Jones drabble - a little insight as to what may have been going through his mind at the end of 2x11


Whew, ok guys. I'm **super** nervous about posting this, seeing as I haven't shown the world any of my fics in about a year. But let's be real here, "The Outsider" was _way_ too chock full of feels NOT to write something, so this is kinda the result.

The reason for this title is, well…it's the song I was listening on repeat while writing. Placebo is a favorite of mine, this song especially, and it heavily influenced the tone of this drabble (so hint-hint, this is me strongly suggesting you listen to it while reading). Enjoy!

* * *

He strides, confident and with purpose, no room for falter in his step. It is the march of a man to his death, but he keeps his head held high because nothing matters. The events of the what transpired three hundred years ago all boil down to this, here and now.

He follows the road, knowing it will lead him to the town line, to where his crocodile awaits. It's the only thing that keeps him going. Exhaustion wears him down to the bone and urges him to stop, to rest after the brutal beating doled out mere hours ago. But nothing will deter him now, not when he is so close to having his revenge, close enough to taste it like the residual metallic tang in his mouth, feel it like the heavy weight of metal in his hand.

He approaches the duo with the silent grace of a predator, cautious and calculating while every bone in his body screams at him to lunge and attack. But he resists, he stalks, and neither of them take any notice of his arrival. The girl is speaking, but he cares not for what meaningless words she has to say. He hears her tell the beast "-I'll be here waiting for you when you get back," and he can't stop the anger that bubbles at the surface – because why should _they_ have a happy ending when his was so cruelly ripped away! – nor the jerk of his finger on the trigger. The bullet clips her frail form and she slumps forward into the crocodile's embrace, effectively falling over the designated town line.

The crocodile is frantic, clutching at his lover, gasping her name like a mantra.

Hook only feels a sick satisfaction, his chest swelling with twisted pride at the realization that he _did _it.

The beast lays claim to actions that can't be undone and his blind rage finally bursts like a dam because how _dare_ he? He deserves no less than the misery Hook endured for three centuries.

His voice breaks as he releases these thoughts, but _tick-tock_, he's on borrowed time and he can't bring himself to care. He's done what he set out to do and accepts his fate.

He taunts the beast, all but begs him to get on with the inevitable – no, he won't beg because that would make him weak, a _coward_. Instead he invites death, opens his arms wide as if to welcome an old friend, complete with an empty smile to show how fearless he is, since the cessation of his life will be but his final adventure on which he embarks. He entertains the fleeting notion of being reunited with Milah; he knows it to be unlikely, but it doesn't matter, because _nothing_ matters.

He watches the flame glow hot and bright in the crocodile's hand with delirious anticipation. His painted-on grin grows, shoulders squared and ready to go.

Alas, his demise is crudely interrupted by blinding headlights cutting through the night. He barely acknowledges the beast drag his beauty out of harm's way as the speeding metal contraption approaches him faster, faster, and he intuitively knows that it must harness quite the power (enough to do the deed, perchance). His mind is quick; it takes him but a moment to determine this as fate granting him an out and another to will his muscles to move. He is free of hesitance, of cowardice, as he launches forth his body – only a mere vessel at this point, for his soul has long since been lost at sea. He is left with the memory of blinding lights and searing white-hot pain to match.

.

.

.

He is greeted with that very memory upon waking in the hospital bed hours later. As he blinks back harsh fluorescent light he makes out a golden halo and eyes the color of the sea hovering beside him, a soft voice calling out to him but he can't bring himself to care.

Reality sinks in and he curses his every breath.


End file.
